Final Fantasy IV
by SourSerenade
Summary: It is my own version of the game itself, just in book form. This is only a preview. If I get enough reviews, I'll continue on and do the entire game.


**Chapter I: Regret**

A radiant blue dominated the endless space that was the sky, only surpassed in beauty by the golden ball that hung, half hidden between broken puffs of white that whisped passed on all sides. The scenery made a perfect contrast to the captain's mood. Cecil, a middle-aged master of the Dark Sword and captain of the Red Wings, sullenly flattened his back against the mast of his airship, head held high, but with a sunken spirit. The image of the sun had burned itself into his eyes so even when he closed them, there it shone bright. He hadn't the motive to care much about that. The King's orders were becoming increasingly violent. Cecil would never dream of going against the King, a man who had taken him and his brother Kain in and raised them as his own, but killing innocents was never part of his job. Even with all of his better instincts pulling him in the opposite direction, the King had ordered Cecil and his Red Wings to capture the Crystal by any means neccessary. They hadn't the need to take the lives of the wizards and witches in Mysidia, but other times...

"Just give us the Crystal. We don't want things to get phsyical." a strapping, blonde worker from Cecil's crew demanded of the wizards on the other side of the immaculate glass chamber. Cecil recognized the speech and at the back of his rowdy bunch, there more for indimidation and show rather than actual force, but could handle the nitty-gritty if negotiations fell apart. He always felt more powerful when donning the armor granted to him for completing the Dark Knight training, and rightfully so, it was forged to be fearsome. The armor itself was of the pitchest black, as if actual shadows clung to it and were constantly writhing about. At times, the armor appeared as if it were living. The grieves, shoulders, helmet, and gauntlets each had a twin set of four-inch spikes welded into the plating, whereas the breastplate and other pieces of armor were inlaid with intricate ancient markings, carved into the material with a steel said to exist only in legend. Cecil peaked an eyebrow inside his helmet when one of the wizards, for the first time, resisted. "I'm.. I'm afraid that we can't simply hand over the crystal. You see, we use it fo--"

"That doesn't matter to us." the same crew member shot back. "Give us the crystal." he said again, but with fiercer insistance. When no response came, Cecil's crew advanced. They continued stepping forward until all of the wizards had their backs to the stand below which the Crystal levitated, somehow suspended in thin air. Cecil had tuned out the shouts, screams, and pledges of violence from his men while a brief, and one-sided battle ensued. Something inside of the Crystal called to him, repeated his name and beckoned for him to do.. something. It wracked his brain and beat around at the inside of his skull until another voice butted in. It was small and barely worth note, but over what felt like an eternity, its power grew. "Captain Cecil! Sir! ..Sir?"

"I.." he started, struggling to swim out of the current of thoughts and nearly drowning. "Do we have the Crystal?"

"Sir, we do. Should we head back to the ship and prepare for our trip back home, Cap'n?"

Cecil's answer was a reluctant one. He wanted to stay so that he wouldn't have to face his murderous king, but duty came before emotion. _Duty before emotion.. Duty before emotion..._ he reminded himself over and over, twice as fast when his eyes caught sight of the mutilated remains of the innocent wizards. Oh, how he wished and pleaded with the forces of time to rewind back so that he could have a chance at changing things, but no amount of praying would grant him that. "Pack the Crystal into the cargo hold. We're leaving."

"Sir!" His men all replied in unison.

As each of his red uniformed subordinates filed out of the room in synchronized lines, he followed suit, but gave one last glance to the once pristine chamber, now forever soiled with the blood of fallen civilians.

That ruined chamber finely imprinted itself into his mind so explicitly that not even the scorching afterimage of the sun scolded into his retina could melt it away. Cecil had gone his entire life without questioning a single order from his majesty, but now he was having suspiscions about the man who raised him! Surely, he shouldn't be thinking of things such as this. They were blasphemous thoughts and he wouldn't waste any more of his time on such trivial matters. _Another time.. but I could've do--_ His thoughts were abruptly cut short by the screeching cries of his crew. " Cap'n Cecil! Monsters off the port!"


End file.
